CampFire Tales
by Jinoku
Summary: Vrisiphiel a young mage fights her way through life alone. Alright the story is done and the reviews are low :
1. Of rabbits and war

A.N.- I do not own the forgotten realms, read and enoy I'm going to go and cry now -- 

A.N.- Please read and review as I will be upadting this contently!

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**CampFire Tales**

Thanks for the ride, good sir,' the young woman climbed off the back, then nearly tripped over something furry on her first step. 'Awww, a rabbit, how cute. Here rabbit.' She leaned down and patted the small creature on the head.

A burly guards strolled over. 'Curse them rabbits, they be hopping all over this place, savaging what farms not yet ransacked by them thieves.' He shook a fist at the fleeing rabbit, and turned to the young woman. 'Pardon me, lady, all these troubles around here is getting on everyone's nerve.

'How are you guys dealing with the Brotherhood deputy?' The driver asked, weighed down by the crate in his arms.

The guardsman shook his head. 'It's a losing battle we're fighting. It has gone beyond skirmishes, just a few days ago they occupied the vineyard across the river, we tried to chase them out, but we simply lack in numbers to mount any effective attacks, we don't exactly know what they're up to, but it cannot be good.'

'Bless me, they're certainly getting bold. Little wonder you people sent out message for volunteer militias,' dragging another crate to the edge, he carried it to the side of the road where he placed in a heap with the other crates. 'Speaking of it, this young lass here would like join the volunteer militias, asked for a ride here when I stopped in Goldshire, say she's a mage, ain't that right lass?'

'A mage?' The guards studied her, and the staff on her back. 'That be great, we sure could use more volunteers around here, especially a spell caster, someone who can attack those sneaky defias at range would be of great help, lady mage.'

The young woman's face reddened. 'My name's Vrisiphiel, and I'm not much of a mage yet, I know a few tricks, conjuring balls of fires and such, don't know if they'll be of much use in fighting.'

'I am sure you will do just fine lady Vrisiphiel.' The guardsman smiled at her. 'I am Deputy Willem, second in command of the Stormwind guards in Northshire. I thank you for your offer of help, now you would want to talk to Marshal Mcbride to be enlisted, he's just through the doorway there,' the man pointed at the church like building. 'Then you might want to talk to Khelden Bremen, Khelden is a mage trainer, he can show you a few useful tricks, you should be able to find him on the second floor of the library wing, that's the second left if you continue in after speaking with the Marshal.'

'Thank you Deputy Willem' Vrisiphiel bowed politely. 'I shall go speak to the Marshal.'

Scurrying up the steps of stairs, she found the bald marshal standing at the end of the doorway. Briefly introducing herself to the marshal, she asked if there was anything she could do to help deal with the Defias Brotherhood. The marshal shook his head. 'I'm afraid not at this point, but I do have a task for you, a simple one at that, to prove your worth. There's a mine to the north west of here, and kobolds have settled in it and the woods near it. Go there kill seven of them vermins, keep their numbers down so we may one day drive them from Northshire, you shall receive twenty five coppers once the task is done.'

Before she leave for the vermins, she continued in and found the mage trainer upstairs reading.

'Evening there lass, how may I help you?' The man closed his book, and smiled warmly at her.

Explaining her joining the volunteer militia and Willem's suggestion that she learn some spells from him, the trainer replied. 'Very well then, you look like a bright lass, with a bit of practice perhaps I could show you how to cast a few spells, but it'll make a dent in your purse I'm afraid, things don't come free in these troubled times.'

'I understand, thank you good sir. I shall return once I have completed the marshal's errands. See you soon.'

Heading out the building, she noticed a few other trainers chatting in the common room, warrior, paladin, priest. Once outside she even thought she caught sight of a tamer and his grey wolf. The deputy approached her, and was disappointed when he learned that she was not appointed to the task of dealing with the Defias. 'No matter, I could still use a hand with them Defias at the vineyard, head east and cross the river, if you could bring me eight of their red bandanas as token of the kill, I will be delighted give you this spare militia staff we got.'

Vrisiphiel nodded, and told the deputy she would do that, as soon as she had completed the marshal's task first, and headed into the wood to the north west.

Kobolds were rat like humanoids, crooked backed with large pink noses and wrinkled face, they were only half her height – and she was by no way tall for a human – and they chatted amongst themselves as she approached them. She could make out two forms of kobolds, the small vermins, and the blocky workers. Candles sat bizarrely over their head, which she assumed were used for lighting when in the mines.

The kobold stank of decomp, tasting sour acid, Vrisiphiel barely kept her dinner contained in her stomach. She began castin a simple fireball spell and was surprised when the foul creatures paid no attention to the young woman whose hand burned of mystic light. The stupidity of the kobolds soon spelt their doom as bolt after bolt of fiery fire cut through their ranks. Vrisiphiel managed to kill two vermins in her initial barrage, wounding a third. The wounded one stumbled away, heading for the safety of the mine, the young mage ran after him and knocked him out with a well placed hit on the head with her staff.

Relieving the dead kobolds of the few coppers coins they had, Vrisiphiel stood up for her spirit to become rested. In the distance, she noticed a few other people, none uniform volunteers like her, cutting through the kobolds. Almost too easy. She resumed her kobold killing, watching the rat like creature shriek and die under her fire balls. She had killed seven vermins already, but she continued her attack for a while yet, just to practice her spells.

At last she decided to turn back and speak to the marshal, who was quite impressed with her, and asked that she return and cull down the number of kobold workers too, which she promptly accepted. Not feeling ready to learn more skills yet, she decided not to visit Khelden, instead she headed east, toward the vineyard to see the defias - which the deputy was evidently so disgusted - at were on about.

By the stream, she saw a black clad woman patrolling the opposite banks. Not wanting to alert the Brotherhood, she waited until the patrol passed before treading over the shallow stream, she climbed up the banks to find a band of dark haired men gathered in a stripped out vineyard. Quietly making her way to the fences, she peaked at them through tall grasses. The Defias had their face covered with red cloth, their eyes glittered with wickedness. Openly brandishing long knives which reflected coldly under the pale moon light, they paced the yards with hunger, anticipating the thrill of falling upon their next victim.

For the next hour, she played hide and seek with the rogues, picking off stragglers whenever one left the safety of their camp. 'This is too easy.' She said quietly, untying the red bandana from the rogue's limp body. This one died from a fireball right into his face, never knowing what struck him.

Her pack filled with smoldering red bandanas, the young mage returned to hand them in to the Deputy. 'Nice work, Vrisiphiel. I have seen few woman with your skill, here.' Willem said, handing her the militia staff.

Vrisiphiel spun the wooden stick in her hand. It wasn't very well made nor balanced, and a slither too heavy for her liking, but it was better than her old cracked staff. The old merchant by the caravan was kind enough to trade in the old staff and a few other items she found on the rogues for coppers. With her purse chinking sweetly with coins, the young woman went about in finding Khelden. It didn't take long, and she found the mage trainer taking a stroll behind the Abbey

'Back so soon young lady?' Khelden said merrily. 'Come for some teachings I suppose, very well. Show me a simple fireball.'

The young mage looked about, and decided to set a nearby tree on fire.

'Good, good.' The trainer laughed at the flames licking at the green leaves on the tree, he waved his hands, blue rings of light and ice flakes filled the air, and a shaft of ice shot forth, dousing the flame. 'You are quite skilled with the basic fire spell already. Now let me show you how to control the magic of cold.'

The morning sun came up, and the woods of Northshire was filled with the muffled sound of fighting, with the entrance to the Fargodeep Mine littered with frozen kobolds, empty eyes gaping in disbelieve. More dead kobolds lined the tunnels, and shriek and explosions echoed still from deeper within.

In a large opened segment of Fargodeep Mine, Vrisiphiel kicked a corpse off an empty cart, tossed the mining pick in its hand to the other side of the chamber, and rummaged through its pockets for anything of value. Luck was not looking over her this morning, and this kobold turned up empty. Taking a seat on the cart, she took out a apple and bit into it, feeling the energy spread to every corner of her body.

The frostbolt spell Khelden had taught her proved more than useful, it was a perfect arsenal against foes. Chilling whatever creature it strikes, the frostbolts slowed the advancement of it enough for her to unleash three fireballs before having to retreat, if the kobold wasn't dead by then. With the frostbolt, the young mage fought her way down the infested mine with ease, in search of the kobold laborers the Marshal wished her to dispose of.

'What's that?' Vrisiphiel thought, noticing a large blocky shape in the corner, covered by the remains of a makeshift table. It was a large chest, she recognized as she approached carefully. Finding a solid hold on the wooden board that may have once been the tabletop, she tried to push it off the chest. The board resisted, its weight heavy for the slender woman, and after a few attempts with nothing but sweat as the result, the mage gave up. 'Fine, have it your way.' Flames burst forth from her hands, and a piece of wooden board catapulted into the air. When the cloud of dirt settled down, the chest was free of obstruction.

This time the chest gave no objection to her opening, and the lid creaked open with little effort. 'Nice!' She exclaimed at the chest's content. A decent pile of coins scattered about the container's bottom, possible as many as thirty coppers, a cut of cheese - still good - laid in a small paper box, which she bagged, and there was something else, some sort of metallic cylindrical objects, brushing off the dust, she inspected them under the yellow torch light. A pair of bracers, finely crafted, and given some cleaning it would be as good as new, it looked about her size too, a nice added bonus.

Smiling, Vrisiphiel headed back up the tunnels. Shadows flickered in the darkness, but she knew they were just cowering kobolds. Good spirited from the find, she nearly walked into the deputy when she returned to the Abbey.

'Careful there Vrisiphiel.' The burly man said, shifting uneasily in his armor, which was acting like a glasshouse. 'I trust you have had a fine morning?'

'My apolgies Deputy. I guess I am a bit taken in with what wealth I found in the mine.'

'Ah, good to hear. Assuming the Marshal had no other tasks have you, could you do me a favor?'

'Anything.'

'It is dangerous, but I would not have come to you had I any other choices. I have been keeping an eye on those Defias for some time now, and I have managed to identify their leader, Garrick Padfoot. Now I know where his tent is, but he is too well defended, and with most of the Stormwind Defense up on the Alliance front, I do not have men enough to go after him. It would really help the situation around here if you could sneak in and kill the man. Without a leader the Defias will be fall apart, and my men will have a easier job keeping them at bay.'

Without a second for thought, the young woman nodded. 'Sure, I'll do it.'

'You sure you don't want to think over it? It isn't going to be easy, and the Brotherhood will show no mercy to whomever falls into their hands. You don't have to do this, I will not pressure you into doing anything.' The deputy sounded doubtful behind his helmet.

'Not to worry, I know what I am up against, it'll be a breeze.'

'Thank you so much, Vrisiphiel, you have the gratitude of the Northshire Guards, if you need anything, just say it and I'll make sure they be arranged.'

'Right now, a good afternoon's sleep.' The young mage returned her staff to her back and went to sell the loots from the mine to the caravan tradesman.


	2. Frost Bite in the water

A.N.- I'm starting to feel a little better about not owning the Forgotten Realms, but I'm still upset.

A.N.- Please read and review, I'm begging you

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**Campfire Tales**

The night fell upon the woods of Northshire Valley, and the night was quiet. A slender silhouette darted against the backdrop of the shadowy trees, its steps light and unnoticed in the north wind.

A black clad woman patrolled the water edge, a red bandanna wrapped about her face. The shadow passed behind a tree, then shot across soon as the woman walked past. The glimpse of white canvas wavered in the distance, and the shape headed to it, melding from one shadow to another. Finally, it stopped beneath a grove of thick bush, no more than a hundred paces from the tent.

The clouds parted, and blue moonlight streamed through the leaves, casting small patch of light across the forest, and the blue clad brown haired young woman hiding under the bush.

Vrisiphiel studied the Defias camp, squinting her green eyes to make out the features of the half dozen rogues. The Brotherhood leader was not present, but the Deputy said he would be camping here. Perhaps he was in the tent?

Even with the dim light and cold wind swirling through the trees, the young mage noticed someone moving no more than five meters to her left. It was Garrick, taking a midnight walk, flanked by just one of his bodyguards.

She could not have had a better chance. Taking careful aim, she rose from her hiding spot. Her hands glowing with mystic light. With his back toward the mage, the leader failed to notice the frostbolt till it was on top of him It shattered upon his shoulder, and the man was knocked back a step. Cheering silently, Vrisiphiel began casting of a fireball, prepared to send the man into an early grave.

Then to her surprise, Garrick charged at her along with his bodyguard. The frostbolt had failed to chill him! Gaping in surprise, she threw the fireball in her hands at him. The man let out a horrible scream as his body was engulfed in flame. When the fires faded the next instant, the man's skin was red with burns, his charred cloth falling in flakes of ash. Still, he and his minion charged on.

Suddenly the forest was bustling with shouts and curses, as the whole world funneled toward her. Out the corner of her eyes, Vrisiphiel saw the rogues at the camp were now racing her way, along with a couple previously concealed in nearly bushes.

Trying to not let fear take the better part of her, she tried to summon another spell. She should be able to kill the leader before the rest of the rogues converge on her. At least, she hoped so. Leaping into the air, the leader slashed down in a overhead cut, the blade whistling as it sliced through the air. She tried to sidestep, but in doing so lost her concentration, and the light in her hands faded. The situation was quickly turning from bad to worse. The young woman attempted another casting, and this time managed to complete the spell, but in keeping the concentration, she only narrowly dodged an attack from the bodyguard, and the sword tore a tear through the skirt of her dress.

The leader's iron blade pressed close, whirling down at her. Blocking with her staff, she nearly lost grip as the force of the blow sent tremors up her arm. Rotten leaves rustled behind her, closer than three meters away. Making a last ditch effort, she feinted a upper swing, then swept in low, and breathed a sign of relieve as she felt the solid staff head connect with Garrick's shin.

The rogue fell over, and Vrisiphiel spun the staff down, landing a solid hit that she heard skull crack. While turning about for an escape to the river, a cold breeze breathed down her back, and she tried to duck to the right. Pain spiked through her brain as she heard her dress ripping down the back, and warm liquid flowed freely down her smooth skin, making a patch of the garment to stick to her burning back. Her steps faltered, and she felt herself being pinned down roughly by a pair of large hairy hands and felt another cold wind stabbing down. Struggling wildly, she hammered back with her elbow. A muffled grunt came, and curses, followed by the acute feel of sharp steel cutting in through flesh then out again, after that her left arm went numb. Stifling the cries in her throat, Vrisiphiel felt herself be turned over, foul dark eyes stared into her watery eyes in glee, and this time the knife came from the left, aimed to draw a deep cut across her throat.

Her hand numb and pinned down, the young woman kicked out. The dagger fell to the earth, tracing a line of red down her pale cheek. Dark eyes bulged in their socket, and the man over her rolled aside, groaning in whines.

The man's companion growled, and cold blades flashed in the dark. Willing herself to her feet, a dark form lunged at her, tipped with a slice of shimmering steel. Having no strength left to defend herself, she pitifully raised her good arm. Blue sparks showered, ice flakes filled the air, and the Defias yapped. Luck was with her, the rogue who struck her was chilled by her frost armor, and was now shivering as he tried to reach for her. Vrisiphiel staggered up, blue dress tattered and stained in red, and nearly tumbled down the bank.

Legs threatening to give way with every step, she dragged across the stream, then up the other side. Lights from the Abbey filtered through the trees, smiling warmly at her. Holding herself up with pure mental will, the young mage crossed the hundred yards toward town. The rogues had left her, not daring to venture so close to the presence of guards. Her vision blackened as she climbed the last slope before the Abbey, a guard caught sight of her and raced to her side, where she fell.


	3. Fire, Smoke and Darkness

A.N.- Why do I bother putting this at the top it only makes me cry --

A.N.- Please read and review!

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** Camp Fire Tales**

Pain woke her from the darkness, Vrisiphiel tried to open her eyes, but they refused under the constant ache paralyzing the nerves. Her body felt light, adrift, and detached. She tried to latch onto something, anything, but in the empty void she only felt herself drifting further. Another spike of pain blasted through her, and she grabbed hold onto it like a drowning person clutching a straw. Never in her life had she appreciated pain like she did now, if she could feel the pain, it meant she was still alive. Alive.

Slowly, Vrisiphiel's senses returned. It was late morning, judging by the warmth of the sun shining on her face. She flexed her right hand, not yet having the feel of her left, feeling the smooth texture of the fabric beneath her. She was lying on a soft bed, below a window, with the scent of peacebloom carried over the warm breeze.

She was in a thin shift, with her wounded shoulder wrapped in bandages. Tracing her hand over burning flesh, the induced pain sent waves of nausea over her.

The young woman winced, and sat up to look at her surrounding. Smooth wooden walls, the heavy metal doors shut, while the windows open. The room wasn't big, about fifteen steps long as it is wide. A wardrobe in the corner, next to it a coat hangar, which upon hang a newly made blue robe. She could not see her old dress, though it was probably torn beyond patching. And there was also a standing mirror, tall as a man.

The girl in the mirror smiled at her, tangled brown hair cascaded down pale face to the shoulders, but those pair of green eyes shined with spirit. She climbed off the bed, and approached her, the hem of her shift dragging across the cold floor. She reached out for her. The mirror was icy cold to the touch, and she jerked her hand back in shock.

Fire, smoke, and darkness, far as the eyes can see. Foul stench in the air, and purple mist shrouds her.

'Vrisiphiel!' A voice called out to her. 'Say something Vrisiphiel. How did you end up on the floor? Come on now, hang in there. You lad, go get Master McCoy! Of course now! Run your legs off or I'll feed them to the wolves.'

Her body was shaking, wait no, someone was shaking her. A worried face hung over her, she tried to place a name to it, but all she could think of was the dull aching in the back of her head. And the burning field.

'You're awake! Thank goodness. Are you alright? Can you speak? Are you in pain? Now where's that healer you lazy no good slack off piece of canine feed! It's alright now, let's get you back into bed. The healer will be here soon.'

Khelden. The name finally surfaced. And it was then the young woman realized she was lying in the mage trainer's arms, his back to the mirror. She tried to raise herself up, but the mage mentor held her down.

'Don't move, you might cause the wounds to bleed again. You are on a good road to recovery, after what the healer called a miracle,' he picked her up, and laid her gently down on the bed, pulling the duvet over.

'I… thank you.' She said quietly.

'It's the least I can do. The town owes you that much at least,' upon Vrisiphiel's puzzling look, Khelden explained. 'You killed Garrick, no small feat that. Now the rogues will leave us alone for the time being, until they can get themselves a new leader.'

'You did well,' he laid a hand over her forehead, patting aside the stray locks in her eyes. 'Taking out a Defias leader. Just lie back now and get some rest. I'll go find out what happened to old fat McCoy.'

'I'm not fat,' someone coming through the door said. 'Morning lady mage.' The healer frowned. 'You look paler than last night. What happened?' He kept his eyes on her, though the question was directed at Khelden.

'Found her by the mirror, she must have gotten up and fainted.'

'That's a little naughty of her, she's in no shape to be out of bed. I thought I told you to stay here and keep her in It.'

'No body gives orders to me, not even McBride, and certainly not you.'

'Well suite yourself. I'll just go back to my nice spot under the sun and you to heal her.' Despite his talk, McCoy came to her side and placed two fingers on her wrist. 'She's in good spirit, likely just still weak after losing so much blood. A day more of rest should see her on her feet. I'll get someone to make some stew for her.'

Khelden nodded, relieved.

'Well don't just stand there, come, leave the lady alone so she can get some sleep.' McCoy hauled the dumbfounded mage through the door by the collar. 'You're coming with me, those boars aren't about to just hop in the cauldron by themselves, you've got to persuade them.'

The moon came up and made its way cross the starlit sky, falling behind the western hills as the blue darkness gave way to orange light. Start of a new day, and start of a new life for a young mage.

'You're leaving?' Khelden looked up at her from his book. 'But.. you haven't fully recovered yet. It's too dangerous.'

Vrisiphiel had come to bid the trainer farewell, after the Marshal asked her to deliver a message to Goldshire. She did not expect Khelden to take the news well, but the look on the man's face nearly made her decide to stay. No, she had to leave, the sooner the better too.

'I'm fine, really. Beside, I would really like to have a look around Goldshire, didn't get much of a chance with all that rain last time.' She wasn't lying, one would never know by looks that the young woman had been on the edge of death just three days ago, the stew Master McCoy made really brought strength to her body.

'What about your studies... you're a bright woman Vrisiphiel, I'd hate to lose a student like you. With just a months worth of study you could become a real mage, just like you've always wanted.'

She didn't reply, the young woman could find no words for this man before him. She only looked at him, her eyes green as spring forest.

The mage trainer sighed. 'I suppose nothing I say is going to change your mind,' he took out a piece of parchment and wrote a few lines on it before signing at the bottom. 'Here, take this. It's a letter to my colleague in Goldshire, Valdios Ellmara, you'll be able to continue your study with him while you're there.' He held out the letter, which after a moment of hesitation, she took and carefully slotted in the side pocket of her bag.

'Farewell, Vrisiphiel.' The older mage said. 'Thank you for everything you have done.'

'Goodbye.' She turned away from him, not daring to linger any longer less emotions take her.

'Take care out there.' Khelden Bremen said as she headed for the door. 'The light shine upon you.'

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. 'You too.'

Out in the hallway, the healer caught up with her. Holding a small chest in his hand. With great care, he opened the lid, revealing a intricately engraved silver ring.

'A parting gift, as a show of our gratitude. Lady mage,' McCoy explained. 'This is one of the thousand soul keep left over from the ages of past. It is a rare artifact nowadays, but not much use if I just leave it in the chest for another thousand year.' He pressed the ring into her hand. 'Wear it, and your spirit will remain unharmed, despite what perils you may go through physically.'

'Usually, when a person dies, their soul dissipates, and they are gone forever. But with this, the wearer's soul will be bound to ancient monoliths, where the soul will go to upon the fall of its body. There, one of my brethrens have to power to bring the wearer back to life, or the wearer may wish to find his fallen body and re-establish the connection, and resurrects there.'

'This… I…' The young mage gaped in shock, her minds reeling at the magnitude of this gift.

'But still be weary of taking risks, the powers of these rings may become exhausted, and the wearer's soul become vulnerable once more, so avoid death if you can. The ring is a last resort.'

'I.. you can not give me this, it's… I cannot take it,' she shook her head, trying to return the ring to the healer. 'I am not worth of such a thing. Keep it for someone more worthy of it.'

The healer closed Vrisiphiel's hand around the ring. 'There are none other.' He guided her hand to her breasts. 'In the past few days, I have seen more courage in you than any other man combined together. Your have the heart, the mind, I see the potential you have, lady mage. I see the roads of hardship and danger ahead of you, and the greatness they lead to.'

'Take it. And find yourself.' McCoy said firmly, and let go of her hand. 'Earn it.'

The ring felt cold in her hands, so alien, so... unfitting. Vrisiphiel opened her hand. The ring lay peacefully in her palm, its smooth surface reflecting age without the loss of its magnificence. Still, and unmoving, the ring laid. At last, she picked it up, and wore it.

'Thank you.' She bowed before the healer, 'thank you.'


	4. Lion's Pride

A.N.- I don't own The Forgotten Realms but as soon as it's on E-Bay it's mine all mine hahahahaha. Sorry lost my cool/what ever brainsfor a moment there...

A.N.- Please read and review, do it NOW!>:(

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**CampFire Tales**

Out of the gates of Northshire Valley, Vrisiphiel headed south on the winding road at a quick and steady pace. Delays had meant she left just after dusk, and once more the stars took over the realm above.

Lanterns swung in the night wind, left, right, left, rightand the shadows they made shifted left, right, left, right. The road was well patrolled by Stormwind guards, but the distant howling still sent chills up her body. Unconsciously she fingered at the silver ring around her index finger.

Out in the open world, where danger lurks around every corner, she could still hardly believe it, despite already out here for a week. Had it really been a week? A smirk snuck up on her lips.

Humming lightly to herself, the light filtering through the woods ahead caught her attention. Goldshire, the town lying on the four way junction, joining Stormwind, Redridge, Westfall and of course, Northshire. The town was bustling with activities as she entered the glow from the houses. A leather clad man skipped across the road, a fishing pole hung over his shoulder; from the direction of Redridge came a dwarf, hauling a heavy sack, a human ran up to him and took the sack, dropping a small bag of coins in the dwarf's awaiting hands.

To her left was the Lion's Pride Inn. She picked up her pace, eager to have a hot meal by the warm fireplace. Then something jumped onto her back.

Letting out a scream, she flailed at whatever was on her back. Tiny claws dug through her robe at the shoulders, small yap and pitched laughter filling her ears.

'Get off me!' She shrieked, franticly reaching out to bat away the creature. Her hand grabbed onto a long soft tubelar thing, and she pulled. The creature yarled, and she felt something scratch past her neck, followed by painful burn. On the ground was a twitching imp, growling as it rolled across the stone paved road. She placed a hand over the pains on her neck, and returned to see two blood smears over her palm. The imp hopped back to its feet, and waved its small hands at her, yelling at her in its pitched, jittery tongue.

'Hoply, get back here!' A man in a red robe ran out of the craft house across the street, and yelled at the small demon. The imp looked at the approaching man, then back at Vrisiphiel once more, growling in a gurgling sound, it bared a mouthful of sharp fangs at her before running to the man.

'I'm terrible sorry.' The man gestured apologeticly, his eyes straining to remain fixed while its focus shifted over her from head to toe, 'this is my summoned imp, except it have yet to have some discipline nailed into its skull yet.' The man was a full head taller than her, had short curly sandy hairs and grey eyes which suddenly glistened with a glow Vrisiphiel know all too well. 'Oh my, you're hurt. I am so sorry fair lady, I will see to it that Hoply gets what he deserves.'

'No, that won't be necessary.' She waved a hand, her tone light and cold.

'Yes, of course, not for a lady as kind as you, I got some bandages and healing herbs with me, if you would like you can use them to treat the wound, there's always a risk of them becoming infected, and goodness knows where that imp has been. Though the wound may be difficult for you to treat yourself, if you wish I could-.'

'No, thank you, it's just a scratch.' She turned away for the Lion's Pride.

'Let me treat you to a meal as an apology. The inn here got some special recipes that will make you swallow your tongue.' The warlock followed a step behind her into the inn.

'You are most generous, but I'm afraid I must decline.' Stepping down the stairs into the common room, Vrisiphiel threw the words over her shoulder.

'How about a drink?'

'I don't drink with strangers.' She found herself a stood at the bar, one already with people on either side of it. 'Honeydew mead, please.'

To the right came the sound of coins exchanging hands, and the person next to her stood up and left. The red robed man then slipped into the now vacant seat. He nodded at the bartender. 'Same as hers, thank you.'

The young mage wasn't sure if she should laugh or get angry at the man. Suppressing the corners of her twitching lips, she stared at the bottles on the wall, pretending to read their labels.

'Name's Ovslen, warlock in training, a pleasure to meet you.' The man said. She felt the stares of the man falling on her, but she kept her eyes fixed forward. 'Now that you know my name, that makes me not a stranger, so may I have the honor in buying you a drink, o'beauteous lady?'

'Already got one.' The young mage took the mug from the bartender's round tray, slightly annoyed that he had brought both hers and the man's mead together.

Taking his own mug, muttering another thank you to the barkeep, he said. 'Yes, yes, how unperceptive of me. May I pay for this drink?' Without waiting for her to make a retort, he placed two silver coins on the bar table. 'Mine and the lady's, and whatever else the lady wishes to have for the night.'

'Hey, hey, you!' Vrisiphiel turned about, but the man was already on his way to the door, his imp jumping from table to table, knocking plates and candles over. 'Come bac…' The man went out the door, the imp gave her a mouth full of fangs before it too, disappeared out the door.

'So how else may I serve you milady?' The bartender said, drying glasses with a towel. 'If you are looking for a good meal our chef has a boar roasting in the back, we also got some premium wine from The Wine Cask, these silvers will more than pay for a bottle, quite a catch if I'm not too bold to say milady, such gracious lord, perhaps you would like a nice large comfortable double bed, with hot bath and – ' The young woman cut the bartender short with a hard stern look of she would not hesitate break all the teeth in his mouth with her staff if he don't shut it that instant.

'Just a roll of bread with some of the stew I'm smelling, thank you.' She fished out a few coppers. 'And I'm paying, when you see that man you give his two silvers back.' The bartender nodded, and swiped the silvers into his pocket, though Vrisiphiel very much doubted if the red robed man would ever see those coins.

Feeling warm with a full stomach, Vrisiphiel went about to deliver the messages. She found the mage trainer Valdios on the second floor, who read the letter and looked at her with a long, sad face, muttering something about Khelden, and the word 'her', which Vrisiphiel suspected was referring to her. All the same, he agreed to become her teacher for her time in Goldshire, and taught her a few useful tricks, like conjuring food and fireblasting.

After that she set about for the Marshal. And it took her just two seconds after stepping out of the Lion's door to find out who it was.

A man with short trimmed hair, weighed down by a set of full plate armor, was facing a group of guards, waving his hands agitatedly. The Marshal was screaming at the guards' leader, though she could not make out the words over all the noises from other travelers.

She waited by the side, quietly watching the forest, while their argument continued. At last, the guards filed out toward Stormwind, the Marshal let out a sigh, and turned to face her. 'How may I help you young lady?'

Vrisiphiel nearly jumped on her feet.

'You've been waiting for me to finish speaking with the officer have you not? Now speak quickly, there are too many matters I must attend to.'

'Eh yes, I have a message, from Marshal McBride of Northshire.' The Marshal snatched the letter from her hands, tearing the envelope open.

'Ahh, I see you have proven to have quite some skill, Vrisiphiel. Killed a Defias group leader alone too.' The Marshal said in an even tone. 'Well, for your deeds of courage in combat and service to the Stormwind guards, I hereby promote you to the rank of Acting Deputy of Goldshire.'

The words knocked the mage back a step. 'Acting Deputy!'

'Well I can't make you an official deputy since you're just an volunteer, not without orders from Stormwind anyway.'

'No, no, I mean, I'm no leader, I don't know anything. I can't be a deputy!'

'Oh don't worry, you don't have to do any tactical planning or order guards around - ' A shadow slipped over the Marshal's face, and disappeared just as quickly. '- not like there are any around to be ordered anyway, with all of them recalled to them blasted Alliance Front.'

'I'll let you in on a small secret.' The Marshal whispered into her ears. 'It's just some customary title we give out to keep volunteers happy, if you really count it, I got thirty new deputies just yesterday.'

She looked up at the man with wide eyes, not sure if the Marshal was joking or not.

'Dughan, where's that Eastvale something, I can't find it.' A paladin walked up to the Marshal, with a meter long wood bludgeon strapped to his back.  
'For the seventh time, just follow the east road, cross the bridge and turn left. Goodness, my grandma can find it quicker than you, and she's blind!' The Marshal of Goldshire growled.

'Can't you be more precise?' The paladin strode away, grumbling as if the Marshal should have just teleported him to Eastvale.

The Marshal sighed again. 'Hopeless volunteers. Half of them can't find their ways around, and the other half just throw themselves at kobolds and murlocs and whatnots and never to be seen again. Bunch of useless cry babies who never should have left their cradles.' The he looked up at her, and laughed. 'Sorry, forgot you are here, I don't mean you, I'm sure you're quite a capable warrior.'

'Mage.'

'Sorry, mage.' The Marshal brushed a hand through his hair. 'Well, young lady. I might just have a task for you.' He pointed a hand toward the south. 'Down that way is Fargodeep mine, it used to be a main mine that gave Goldshire its name, but now it's infested with vermin. Could you go in there and assess the infestation for me? I've sent a dozen other volunteers, but they ran off as soon as they saw the first copper vein.'

'First thing tomorrow.'

'Great, I'll be expecting your report. You hey, yes you, over there, no not you, stay out of it, I want the kid in the green mail, Get over here, stop bugging people to help you get candles, you're not strong enough, so give it up, I've had enough of your constant shouting. What? Let's see you say that again while I'm breaking your fingers.' The Marshal turned back at her. 'Sorry, but I got things to attend to. You, get yourself over here young one, that's it, you asked for it...'_  
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	5. The Surface

A.N.- I don't own The Forgotten Realms and am getting beyound tired of righting this at the top :(

A.N.- Please pead read and review, that's why I'm writing this stuff!

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**CampFire Tales**

The next morning, Vrisiphiel swung her pack over her shoulder and headed for the foothills to the south. Though shrouded from view in the night, the young mage could easily see the rising crest of the hill top. And according to the Marshal, the mine is just on the other side of it.

She have heard that the woods have become unsafe, but never did she expect she'd be jumped by a giant, furry, tarantula. The eight legged creeper jumped at her from behind a tree stump, and caught her completely off guard. Too surprised to even scream, she rolled aside off reflex. Having missed its prey, the spider hissed, baring its ten inches long fangs at her.

'Ieeek!' Her screams filled the morning forest, as the spider lunged at her again. Frost burst forth around the spider, and it reeled back, clawing at the air with its forelegs. 'Go away.' She bashed the spider, again, then again, till the twitching form was no longer twitching, flipped on its bellies with its legs to the sky. 'Yeew.' She wiped the slimy inners of the spider off her staff on a patch of grass.

She at last made it to the edge of the mine, after having killed four of the disgusting…thing which she don't even want to think about. 'I think I've seen enough spiders to last me a lifetime.' She thought, trying to hold back the content of her breakfast in the stomach. 'Hope I'd never have to kill another one of them again.'

Looking down over the cliff ledge, the valley was filled with kobolds, and more kobolds, and corpses littered all over the place. Slowly, she inched down the cliff, and killing one by one, made her way to the entrance of the mine.

It was dark, and filled with blueish mist, with strange sounds coming from the deep. Proceeding slowly across the carcass filled mine floor, she made her way to a large cavern, where she saw a kind of kobolds never seen before.

Curious, she snuck up behind them, using the mining carts as concealment. They were slimmer, and carried no picks or shovels, which was odd as she thought kobolds lived to mine.

Is this what the Marshal wanted her to report on? Or would she need to gather more information on these new kobolds.

Deep in thoughts, she nearly missed a familiar whoop of burning air, she dropped to the ground, a yellow ball of flame shot over her and the wall behind her exploded, sending shards of stone over her.

'What in the name?' She said under her breath. Peaking over the cart, she saw the kobolds jabbing their fingers her way, while a few had theirs glowing, almost like hers when she was…casting fireball.

Suddenly learning what the new kobolds do, the young mage knew she was in trouble. Vrisiphiel lunged out of the cover of the carts, just as two fireballs smashed into their sides, sending them into the air and falling back to earth at were she was. In response, she cast a fireball back at them, and found it dissipate by an invisible shield warding the kobolds.

Memories of when the last time her spells failed her rushed to her mind. The darkness, the cold bearing down her neck, the pain. She could see herself, there, alone in the night, her body covered in blood, as more of her life's fluid bleed out from her wounds, as her enemies fell upon her, their eyes glistening with hunger. No. She pulled herself back to the mine, to focus on the enemy before her.

Her main weapon is the fireball, while she also have the frostbolt, it did not do enough damage compared to the fireball, and now fireball is ineffectual against these kobolds. 'This is definitely, not, good.'

She threw off a frostbolt, knocking the nearest kobold mage over. A fireball whistled her way, and this time she failed to avoid it. Fire engulfed her, and she felt the flame lick at her chest and legs. Rolling over the floor to douse the flame, she sprinted toward the exit as another fireball flashed past, blasting out a storm of rock and dust. She turned about, and shot off another frostbolt. Luckily, this one impacted solidly in its gut, the kobold gurgled, held its small hands over its stomach as it collapsed to the floor.

The remaining kobolds shrieked, and chased after her. Another flash of fire came, nearly blowing out one of the support beams. Coughing on the dusty smoke, Vrisiphiel ran out of the mine into the brightness of the sun.

That afternoon, after treating the burns with some healing potions, she told Marshal Dughan about those kobold mages, and the Marshal's face sunk into a troubled frown.

'Geomancers, must be. I've heard of them, but never thought they would venture so far into these lands. This is dire news Vrisiphiel, I'm glad you managed to discover it quickly, I hope it isn't too late yet. I will try to divert what manpower I have to this matter, but with the Deifas Brotherhood licking at our heels, I'm afraid it will take some time before I can move against them, meanwhile, can you try to keep their numbers under control? I will send what competent volunteers, which aren't that many, to the same task, together, you just might be able to keep them in check long enough for me to prepare a raid on them.'

That had to be the most amount of words Vrisiphiel had seen the Marshal string together without turning to curses. She shifted on her toes, considering the Marshal's request.

Her first encounter with the geomancers had nearly turned into disaster, but that was before she knew anything about them, before she knew their capabilities. She does now. And if the Marshal could send a few volunteers to the task too, they might be able to group up and make the job that much easier.

Carefully weighing the factors, she nodded. 'I'll do the best I can.'

'Thank you, lady mage. I'll send the other volunteers to the mines as soon as they come back from their current errands.'

Walking away to sell the goods she looted off the kobolds, she suddenly made a realization. 'Blast, now I have to wad through that field of spiders. Again.'

One of the traveling merchants asked if she could help him collect candles, that he worked for an alchemy supply store up in Stormwind and is looking for wax for some recipes. It seemed an easy enough matter, after all, every kobold stupidly carried a candle on their head.

Toasting the spiders before they could get close to her, she made her way to Fargodeep mine. The kobolds had dragged away their dead and reoccupied the valley outside, a minor hindrance, these normal kobolds were mere target practices for her.

A dance of ice, and fire. The kobolds spun, and fell. Some shrieked, some took their fate in silence. 'You no get candle!' Some shouted as they charged to their doom. The young mage's slender form weaved through the herd in graceful waltz, the flickering flame and chilling frost encircled her, a colorful display rendering the fire within the girl.

Three kobold came at the young woman, pick hammers waving. Vrisiphiel stepped away, sending frostbolts through their ranks. The slowed tunnelers dragged their frozen feet after the mage, crying in anger. The first fell collapsed like a boneless sack, the second soon followed after bathing repeatedly in flames. She had never felt like this in her life, one with the magic, the flow of it coursing through her, giving her strength. The young woman chased after the third, who fled after being deeply wounded by a shard of ice.

A fireball curved in from behind, and exploded against the kobold, sending the limp form into the rock face. Vrisiphiel gaped at her hands, she didn't remember her casting the fireball, she was going to conserve her mana and knock the kobold out with the staff.

Looking behind, she discovered the origin of the fireball. A foot tall yellow scaled demon poked its head over the edge of the cliff, gave her a grin full of fangs, and pulled back behind a grove of bush.

She said to herself. 'Ookie, I've seen that grin before, this means - '

'What chance this, fair lady, that we shall meet again so soon.' A flurry of red leapt down the slope, and next thing Vrisiphiel know a red robed warlock was standing before her with an all too happy smile.


	6. Flickering Flame

A.N.- Ok People the story is almost over I hope you've enjoyed the story so leave me be :(

A.N.- Please Read And Review…do it…

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**Campfire Tales**

Putting up a stone rigid face, Vrisiphiel inspected the warlock in an innocuous gaze. Under the natural light, the man's hair was a shade lighter than last night. His crimson robe catching but pleasant to the eye, the silver emblems lining the collar and sleeves framing a well toned body; around the waist wore a leather belt, a curving dagger hung from it. He had his hand crossed before him, and was looking down on her with his annoyingly well presented smile.

'I trust you've had a pleasant night.' The man said. The imp stood a step behind its master, tilting its head from side to side, blinking at the passing birds with mischief. 'I was told by the Marshal that a young woman needed a hand with these kobolds, I should have thought it was you, fair lady. Perhaps we may have another drink after we're finished with them, on me, of course.'

Trying to look as casual as possible, she turned away from the man, counting the steps as she entered the mine.

'What is that supposed to mean?' The warlock sounded puzzled. 'Aren't you supposed to say something nasty? Take a jab at something I wear, something? Anything? Hey, wait up, you can't go in there alone, it's too dangerous, the place is crawling with fireballing rats.'

She turned down a side shaft, purposefully taking detours as she made her way down, and unknowingly, a smirk crept up on her. Alone in the mines, having long lost the irritating warlock in the many passages, the moist air tugged at her, the ringing of pickaxes against stone fading away, and the tunnels occupied by an eerie silence, and blue glow from the hundreds of dead bodies paving the floor. Her progress was slow, as she struggled to not get tripped up over the dead. Gnomes, dwarfs, humans. Old and young, man and woman. How many lives had perished under the pick and hammers of the kobolds. How could Stormwind tolerate such evil deeds to be done right under the watch of its golden throne.

A new darkness was coming, threatening the whole Alliance. She don't know what a lone young apprentice mage could do in such times, but she will do what is within her. The young mage retied her soft hair so they won't fall into her face and raised her staff to the ready; if her memory serves her, the geomancers should be just ahead.

Coming up against what looked like a mechanical crane, the young mage at last spotted the signatory candle glow of kobolds. There were three kobolds, two geomancer, the other a tunneler. Raising her hand open palmed at the geomancer, she began casting a frostbolt. Two seconds to cast each bolt, the geomancers haven't noticed her which meant she get the first one free. Picturing the fight in her head, she estimated she could at least kill one of the geomancers before the tunneler could get to her.

Trading ice against fire, Vrisiphiel dropped the first geomancer with little more than a scorch on her sleeve. The young woman then sent the next bolt into the tunneler, slowing it down while she gained some distance away from it. She resumed pummeling the second geomancer. Fireballs struck her, and she gritted her teeth against the agony to keep her spells up. Bolt of ice hurled in at the kobold mage, and it shrieked for a futile escape from it, its eyes rolled, and fell head first onto its comrade's cold body. The remaining tunneler snarled.

The young woman raised her staff, blocking the smashing hammer, and countered with a swing that glanced off the kobolds chest. The rat humanoid struck out once more, but she danced away and incinerated it with a fireblast.

'That was close.' Finding a spot to sit on the run down machinery, she pulled out her water skin, feeling the refreshing sensation as the cold water ran down her throat. Stretching, she leaned back. Her fingers felt a wet sticky patch, she turned about, and found four geomancers lying behind the crane, in a pool of dark blood. She blinked. From the position these kobolds were situated, it would seem they were lying in ambush when someone killed them.

Faint chuckle came from close above her. The young woman jumped to her feet, her green eyes beaming in the dark. It's the warlock again. Sitting on the arm of the crane, he gave her a thumb up. 'Brilliantly done, fair lady. I must have been blessed by the gods to have the chance in meeting you, a most entrancing lady of mesmerizing beauty and talent.'

'Are you stalking me?'

'I ask no more than to gaze upon the face of one lovely lady.' He dropped down from the crane, and offered her a fancy bow. 'And to keep her from harms way.'

Vrisiphiel stood unmoving, the only motion the blinking of her shimmering green eyes, she stared at the man, seeing the reflection of a dark haired girl within his grey eyes. The kobolds she killed were mere baits, and she surely would have been in ambushed by the hidden geomancers had the warlock not killed them, somehow.

The young woman knew she should be thankful of the warlock's help, though the man's likely motive in helping made her want to scowl. She got herself a devote admirer, and it seemed the harder she tried to avoid him, the quicker he finds her. She wanted to yell at him, or better yet, have a piece of his skin and get him to stop following her, but decided against it.

She didn't like the man, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Tilting her head slightly, she gave the warlock her most charming smile. 'You're so sweet, Ovslen.'

That was definitely not the response the sandy haired man was expecting, and it was his turn to stand thunderstruck, his grey eyes magnified and unblinking. Even his imp stopped dangling from the tip of the crane and fell to the ground.

'I'll be heading back to town now, think I've collected enough candles and killed enough kobolds to satisfy the Marshal. Catch you up later, I seems to recall you promising me a drink.' The young mage gave him a playful wink, and headed back up the tunnel.

She heard the man talkin to his imp as she left the chamber. 'Did she just said what I think she said? I'm fairly sure I wasn't dreaming.' The imp replied with a yirp, hopping on its feet. 'You know Hoply, of all the girls I've met, she I don't get.' He muttered.

'So may I at last know your name, fair lady?' Ovslen asked. Sitting opposite her, the warlock shook his mug gently in his hands, letting the foam swirl in the forming whirlpool.

The Marshal had been pleased by the news that they had slain at least thirty kobolds, a quarter of that geomancers. Unfortunately, the Marshal had no good news as such to give them, Stormwind had pulled away even more of his guards, leaving him with barely enough to patrol the roads, much less tackle the kobold infestation.

At least the merchant paid her well for the candles, some sort of alchemy trinkets which sold well to the traders. Evidently her reputation has quickly spread around Goldshire, upon entering town one tradesman going by the nickname 'Two Times' approached her, asking if she could get some gold dusts off the kobolds; a woman asked her to retrieve a lost necklace from one particular kobold named Goldtooth, how the woman came by the name of the creature was disturbing to say the least; another one, a young farmgirl even asked if the young mage could deliver a letter to her lover who just happened to be the son of the Stonefield family which is feuding with hers. Vrisiphiel turned down the farmgirl politely, she had better use of her time than as a message runner.

The red robed warlock had mysterious gotten back to the Lion's Pride before her even though she had left Fargodeep first. He had his arms crossed before him, leaning against a lantern post by the door while the hyperactive imp clawed at passing squirrels. Exchanging smiles, they found a table by the corner and each ordered a drink. The same bartender from last night had a smugly grin when he saw the two together.

The light conversation involved mainly Ovslen talking, briefly explaining his background. Born and raised in Stormwind, he apprenticed under a master warlock a week after his twenty fifth birthday. That was two years ago, and now he's traveling around the world looking for trouble.

The red robed man continued. 'I'm sure you don't want me referring to you as fair lady round every corner.'

'Vrisiphiel.' She said. 'It's kind of hard to pronounce.'

'It's a special name.' The warlock nodded gently. 'And it has a nice flow to it.'

Ovslen was a heavy drinker, already on his third drink, the talk gradually shifted to the crisis surrounding Elwynn Forest.

'I've heard from one of the guards that murlocs are swimming up the river near Eastvale, and settling camps along the banks all the way up to Crystal Lake.' The warlock said, blowing about the foam floating on his mead.

'Strange happenings, I thought murlocs tended to stay in the sea.' The light from the fireplace bathed the place in a warm glow, coloring the young mage's face with a lovely shade of yellow and red.

'They did, but rumors has it that something deep in the ocean has driven them from their ancestral grounds, and now they're coming ashore everywhere. From Westfall to Redridge, it's hard to go anywhere without having finding one of their huts. Stormwind better do something quick, or else we'll be driven from our lands by the murlocs.'

'I've heard that theory too. In a sense the murlocs are really victims though aren't they. They don't know they're the intruders here, all they know is that us humans are trying to destroy this new home they've found.' Tracing small circles on the table with the condensation from the glass, she said thoughtfully. 'The best way to solve the murloc problem would be to find out what drove them here and solve it there, then all the murlocs can go back to the ocean and we'll be able to live in peace. Trying to wipe them out from these lands would only anger them and draw even more to us.'

'We hardly got enough people to defend our homes, mounting an expedition to help the murlocs get back home is far from practical.' Ovslen said in a pained voice. 'Things must be going real bad on the Front for them to strip the home defense like this, I still can't believe they pulled out of Westfall and Duskwood completely. It's not just a problem only we're facing though, last month when I was in Ironforge, the dwarves were doing no better than us either, I cannot begin to imagine what it is like for the night elves, all the way across the world and right next door to the Hordes. But back to the dwarves, the shorties stripped their defenses down even more than us, now all over dwarven territory Troggs are coming out from the earth faster than spring grass, and the Frostmane Trolls in Dun Morogh are making a comeback. In Loch Modan things are even worse, ogres camping right in their backyard, and Dragonmaw orcs are taking over Dun Algaz, the supply line to Menethil will be severed if they can't think of a solution soon.'

'My, you have seen your share of the world.' Vrisiphiel said, slightly impressed with the man before her.

'The willing of a practitioner of the dark arts is to discover, to dwell into the darkest corners of the world and learn to wield lost knowledge and powers.' Ovslen said with renewed enthusiasm. 'To cross the flooded plains of wetlands, battling through giant crocolisks and raptorsaurus, to face against the gnoll packs of Redridge Mountains, and the raiders of Deathwind Pass. To see the burning fire atop the Westfall Lighthouse, to breath the rejuvenating forest air of Duskwood. To venture through the tomb of long dead kings, and to gaze upon the lustrous jungle of Stranglethorn.' His tone took a sharp decline. 'Well, haven't done the last one, but I will soon. In fact, we do pretty much everything you mages do, except we play with the shadows while you fiddle with the element. What say that after we've helped the Marshal out we head out across the sea and go journey the faces of Kalimdor, and see the great world tree together.'

'Sounds interesting, I'll need to think about it.' She turned her face away, and asked the passing innkeeper for something to eat, hiding her distaste for the warlock's suggestion. 'I intend to head for Eastvale tomorrow, and take a look at those murlocs. You're free to tag along if you want.' Not like anything she do will keep him away anyway, so might as well play the nice one.

Once again Ovslen look puzzled by her new change in attitude toward him. Perhaps he thought the night was just the young mage's way of saying thank you, but the pretty girl who had previous shown only disdain at his pursuit was suddenly inviting him to go with her on a travel? There had to be a catch to it. Vrisiphiel could read the thoughts scroll across the man's bewildered eyes, over the reflection of the sweet smiling girl.

Did she mean to trick him into going to Eastvale while she went the other way? Could this young mage be so annoyed with him that she's got some devious plan to drown him in the Lake? Or could his methods of repeatedly getting on her nerve struck home and finally earned him her attention?

Vrisiphiel watched her admirer's shifting expressions in amusement, her strawberry lips a coltish crescent. 'Well?'

'Thank you for the invitation, Vrisiphiel, I would love to go with you. But I think I have to make a trip to Stormwind and get some supplies.'

'Aw.' The young woman was surprised by how well she filled her voice with disappointment.

The conversation continued late into the night, till the common room was empty of customers save the young mage and warlock still chatting quietly in the corner. With the young woman listening with half pretended interest at the warlock's on going talk of arts and history.


	7. Valley of Heros

A.N.- Alright the last chapter enjoy readers I'm gonna go and take a nap --

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**_Campfire Tales_**

Using her staff as support, she climbed the steep slope, which the herbalist hut rests atop of. Acting Deputy, the young woman smiled, it wasn't working out too bad. For the past two weeks, she had helped the guards in keeping things in check in the woods. Killing kobolds, Defias rogues, wild wolves, and hungry bears. And yes, a few yucky spiders now and then, though she mainly got the warlock to kill them for her. Vrisiphiel's smile widened into a grin. She was, after all, Acting Deputy of Goldshire.

Aside from picking up the trade of herbalism and potion making, she had found the perfect way in treating her admirer. Pretending to like a guy, not enough for him to think you're ready, but enough to let him think he's on your mind, can get you a long way. Giving a sunny smile, sometimes a sweet hello was enough to keep the red robed man from pestering for a morning. Didn't mean he stopped trying to annoy her, but so long as she had a smile on her face, he wouldn't know that he was being annoying, which meant he didn't know what to do next time to annoy her.

The hut was small, with a warm fireplace, in one corner there was a table of bloody cut meat, though what use would a alchemist and herbalist have of a pile of meat chop was a question she wasn't about to ask.

'So, you take a peacebloom, crush them and mix it with some silverleaf, then you apply…' The alchemist spoke quickly, waving his hands about in exasperated movements.

'Umhm, of course, thank you.' Vrisiphiel said. 'Would you mind writing that down somewhere? Incase sometimes I forget them.' Like now. She thought. While the man turned to write down the recipes, the young mage took the time to glance through her journal for things she was supposed to do.

'Kill prowlers, done that. Scout out Jangodeep Mine, well let me take a guess, infested, but not like the Marshal can do anything about it, tick. Find missing guards, check.' She mumbled as she traced a slender finger down the page, wincing as she recalled finding the bloody remains of the guards amongst the smoldering remains of murlocs. 'Kill a pig called Princess, oh please.' She took out a quill pen and scribbled out that entry. 'Smith Argus wants some things delivered to Stormwind, ah, I can do that. And thank you.' Taking the parchment of alchemy recipes from the alchemist, she packed it away along with her notes.

If her sense of direction had not failed her, Stormwind was just a short run to the north west. She was quite surprised that she hadn't visited the capital yet, considering how close she was to it. The road was busy with traffic, humans and dwarves and the occasional gnomes, she even saw a night elf priest, and was quite captivated by his purple hair up till the moment she walked head first into him. Apologizing quickly, she watched as the night elf scampered off in darnasian curses.

Northshire may had been a disappointment to the eyes, but Stormwind was definitely not, and the young woman instant regretted not having visited it earlier the moment she stepped through its grand, ten men tall gates wide enough for twenty men abreast.

Made of white stone, the gate was connected to the front terrace in a two hundred yard long arch-bridge, with colossus statues towering over the path.

Walking through the inner gate, she was met by the bustling streets of the trade capital of the Alliance. Criers called out at the permanently passing crowd of their day's special goods, of fresh baked cheese and newly imported wines. 'Free drinks at the Blue Recluse!' The one by the fountain shouted. 'For all your supplies visit the Everyday Merchandise, you won't find prices any better than ours!' Another said, atop a pile of crates.

The wide street descended in a gradual slope, coming to a busy intersection. Across was a small square, with caravans and the Lion Heart Armory. The flow of the crowd took the left, carrying the young mage in the current of many bobbling heads. Up ahead was a fountain, next to that the marble steps which led to the Counting House, the bank of Stormwind. Clashes of metal resounded, Vrisiphiel looked about, and found a pair of weighed down warriors locked in heated duel.

'Yarl!' The taller one cried, spinning in a complete circle to build up momentum for a crushing blow. His opponent stepped back out of the way, and dashed back just as quickly, a two handed sword thrusting out with all his weight behind it, the edge glanced off the man's mail at the waist.

She wanted to stay and look, but the tide pushed her into the bank. Inside, it was a much better sight, and people could decide where they want to go, and actually be able to shoulder their way there. Vrisiphiel dropped out the current and found herself some breathing room in the corner.

There were people trading, there were people gathered in groups, commenting at each other's gear and latest ventures, and there were a long line of people waiting before the counters. She fell in behind one of the shortest lines, her bag was coming heavy, and she wondered if she could purchase a safe box to leave some valuables in.

'May I help you ma'am?' The tiller when she finally waited to the front.

'Hi em, I was wondering if I could get a bankbox?'

'Sure thing ma'am, can you please tell me your name and I'll get it for you.'

'I'm Vrisiphiel, this is my first time here, I don't have a bankbox as yet.'

'No problem ma'am, here.' The tiller placed a box on the counter. 'First one's free, you will just have to write you name down on here, and this box will be yours.' He pointed at a small tag on the side of the box. 'You'll be able to access it from any of the other banks in the world, must admit those goblins are ingenious coming up with something like the translocators.' The man showed a tired smile. 'Here you go ma'am, if you ever run out of space, all we require is a small amount of fee, and we'll open an extra space for you where you can put extra bags of things.'

'Thank you.' Placing her spare staff and herbs in the box, the young mage returned the box to the tiller.

Outside and again in the humming crowd, Vrisiphiel looked about to deliver the smith's items. 'Dwarven District.' She muttered, trying to figure out how she could find out where the place is.

The young woman wasn't tall, and in the crowd she could hardly see anything past the flurries of rushing red and blue, the colorful array of attires worn by the many people running past. The shops formed a fence around her, like a cauldron.

'If you're going to just stand there, stand by the side!' A night elf shoved her aside, running toward the gryphien stop. Stumbling under the purple humanoids push, Vrisiphiel nearly bumped her head into the side of the caravan.

'Sorry.' She said, but the night elf has already turned the corner.

The endless stream of people filed in and out the square, strangers, powerful priests and warriors, with the occasional shape shifted panthers. She stood by the caravan, all alone, and… She wouldn't describe it as scared, but she was lost. It was a big world, and she was young, and ignorant. And all by herself. She had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to lean on for help.

Shrugging off the thoughts, she found an alley and went through to the outer street, then into the Canal. The city's districts were separated by a series of canals, bridged with arching walkways. The sign posts weren't very clear on the directions, and Vrisiphiel found herself wandering into the Mage Quarter while on the search for the dwarf Stormpike.

'My!' The young woman exclaimed as she walked up the grassy path. Before stood a tower, green vines and purple flowers lined its walls. A ramp spiraled around its perimeter, neither connected to the wall or held up by supports, it suspended in mid air in defiance of the laws of gravity, as a testimony of the powers of magic. The tower dwarfed all surrounding buildings, its stature made clear. This, was the center of some worldly power, this, was the focus of magic. A rainbow of light cascaded down its windows, bright, brilliant shards of colored glass, cut in angular lines in orderly randomness. Her pulse quickened a warm fizzy feeling tingling within, Drawn by its mystical aura, Vrisiphiel made her way atop the ramp.

Inside, the sight was simply breath taking. A large portal beaconed at her, its green watery event horizon shimmering, bathing the chamber with its eerie glow. Standing by the portal was an old sage, who smiled at her, his blue eyes beamed with cool wisdom which Vrisiphiel dared not to look up upon. Her mouth opened, the closed, the words of greetings or questions choked in her throat whenever she looked up at the sage.

'I bring you greetings, child.' The man said. 'If you come in search of the knowledge of the arcane arts, then you have my welcome, come, and step through.' The man's voice was calm and hypnotic. The young mage found herself moving a step in the portal's direction, her green eyes lost in the fluorescent portal.

'Where will it take me?' She heard herself say in monotonic mutter. The young woman could no longer read her own thoughts, it wasn't that her mind went blank, she knew there were a thousand things going through her mind, evaluating, considering, just could not latch onto any of it.

'Where do you wish it take you?' The man replied with a question, in the same even tone.

'Where do I wish it take me?' Vrisiphiel heard a young girl say.

'Where does your heart belong?' The voice asked again, this time it sounded rhetoric, but those blue eyes gazed upon the slender girl as if expecting an answer. The chamber has shifted, the picture glass melted into splatters of colorful pigments, swirling, twirling. The ocean of bottomless green sang, and rippled happily at the girl, the surface curved into a concave, reaching out for her.

'I… don't know.' The young girl shook her head. The green portal shied from her raised hand.

The sage sighed, even the solid stone floor he once stood had melted into soft gelatinous pudding. 'You're not ready yet.' He said. 'She isn't ready.' Pair of blue eyes shifted to the girl's right hand, which was resting by her side. 'Soon, perhaps, I hope.' The next moment the room was back as it once was. Solid floors with spiraling staircase, and morning sun shining through elegant window designs.

The sage raised his hand to the portal. 'I trust you have come to learn more of the arcane magic.' His voice had changed to friendly warmth, or had it? 'A fine choice of study. Please, do step through. It will bring you to the Wizard's Sanctum.'

Her green eyes blinked, her mind still foggy and allowed her not to decipher what just transpired. Vrisiphiel gently extended her hand into the now quiet green surface, and stepped through.

Candle stands lined the sides, dimly illuminating the tall chamber. A quiet and serene blue filtered through the columns of windows. Opposite the portal from which she entered, was another one alike.

An elf lady approached her, and spoke in her beautiful elvish accent. 'Hi there, young one. I am Elsharin, you must be Vrisiphiel.' Seeing the stunned look on the young woman's face, the elf quickly explained. 'We do keep an eye on all promising students. Khelden and Valdios spoke highly of you.' There was an undeniable charm to the elven mage, though she could not place a tag to which part about the elf gave that impression. The voice, the hair, those large tilted eyes, those long pointy ears. They were perfect in every senses, it was a pity there were so few of them left.

The conversation was brief and quick, Vrisiphiel did not wish on delaying her delivery. Elsharin accompanied her out through the portal and wished her luck on her travels, and that whenever the younger mage felt ready, she'd be at the tower to teach her new spells.

An eight years old boy ran past her when she reentered the canal, a few yard behind chased a girl a few years younger. 'Gimme my dolly!'

'Sara wants her doll.' The boy laughed, holding a patched cloth doll before him as he ran along the waterfront.

She passed through the tranquil park where the conclave of night elf druid sat in meditation, and the cathedral before finding the Dwarven District. Charred air filled the air, as every breath sloshed suffocating ash down her lungs and she choked with every step, the clash of metal crushed between hammer and anvil echoed in the polluted environment. The place was filled with smiths and engineers, their shirt drenched in the sweltering heat from the forges.

She found Stormpike in a signless weapon shop. Wearing a miner's helmet, the tall dwarf, and he was tall, measuring up to her chest, was dusting the display racks when she walked in.

'Khuzudumdi hum di modr khum.' The dwarf hummed in his cluttering speech. Vrisiphiel knocked on the door frame, patting off the black soot from the shoulder of her blue robe.

'Ooh's tere?' The dwarf jumped, knocking over an axe so sharp it split the floor board as it landed. 'Barum!' He reached out and plied the weapon out. 'Thumping axe!' He grumbled, putting the axe back into its hold. 'Aye tere lass, 'ov can Stormpike serve ye today?'

'Good day there Master Stormpike, I am here to deliver your orders from Smith Argus in Goldshire.' Vrisiphiel rummage through her pack, and produced the box of supplies.

'Ai, 'ank you lassie.' Stormpike took the box and tore the package open. '"es, good good. Tis all 'ere.' He looked up at the brown haired young woman. 'Appecia'e yer 'elp lass. Vas gitting abi worried abou th'se. Ah 'ere's a few coins fer yer effort.' The dwarf fished out and gave her a handful of coins, some coppers, some silvers.

'Thank you. Master dwarf.'

'Ave, now p'rden me, fer me 'ave works to do.'

Late afternoon, and the city were no less lively. People rushing from districts to districts, hoping to finish their businesses before dark sets in. Wandering at random, Vrisiphiel came into the Old District. The seediest place in Stormwind, the Old Town was filled with ruffians and thugs, shady men eyeing her with shifty glances. Rats scampered between muddy boots, squeaking and sniffing at the air.

There was a shift in the wind, and the young mage smelt a sickening sweet scent carried over on it. The smell of syrup burrowed up her nostrils, and a dull ache rang in her head. 'What a wonderful city we got, got them tasty cheese, grand hallways, holy cathedrals, and best smelling poison maker in all Azeroth.' Someone close to her said sourly.

A maid was dancing before the tavern, and no small sized crowded gathered around her. Twirling seductively, the flaming haired woman drew a shower of whistles from the circle of burly males. A burst of cheers and laughter exploded out the tavern door, turning dozens of heads momentarily before falling back on the dancing girl. Curious of the outburst, Vrisiphiel entered the shabby tavern.

Inside was a crowd smaller than the one outside, but more compacted in the confined tavern. Three quarters of the tables and chairs had been pushed through no gentle manners to the side, while a score of bystanders forming a ring about two combatants, who encircled each other, fists tight before them. The man on the left, one with the red shirt, punched a few gesturing blows in his opponent's way. Looking bored, the other man raised one arm in perfunctory manner, scratching at his oily hair with the other.

Thinking he found a weakness, Red Shirt came at Oily Hair, a plain punch for the abdomen. Oily Hair kicked out, and caught the man in the shin before the punch could land. Red Shirt hopped away in pain, his face anger ridden.

Finding herself a seat by the bar, Vrisiphiel got herself some cold drink, deciding to interest herself watching the fight.

Oily Hair didn't opportune himself with the moment, he stood back and waited for Red Shirt to recover. A second later Red Shirt threw himself at the man, but landed with a thundering crash on the floor when Oily Hair stepped out of the way and gave him a gentle push on the shoulder. The crowd gave a loud 'Oooo', a few winced, some oinked. Back on his feet, Red Shirt shook away the daze over his eyes, and came swinging wildly. With the grace of a cat, Oily Hair ducked beneath the blows and returned a solid punch in the man's gut. Buckling over, Red Shirt groaned, clutching his stomach as he fell to the floor. The crowd gave a unison cheer, followed by the gurgling of beer poured down the throat.

Bowing dramatically at the audience, Oily Hair failed to notice the downed man getting up and sneaking up on him. A crushing elbow drop and Oily Hair fell limp to the floor, his mouth agape soundless for breath. The crowd gave an aww, then cheered for the new victor, followed by more drinks being consumed.

Taking a mug offered from someone in the crowd, Red Shirt wiped at the sweat on his forehead then downed the drink, before stumbling into a nearby seat and looked with satisfaction as the crowd dragged Oily Hair up and out the door.

Giggling lightly to herself at the fight's sudden comeback, the young mage turned back to her foamy drink and thoughts for what happened back at the tower. The tavern was filled with the sound of wood scrapping over stone as the tables were pushed back in place, the crowd resumed their conversation back in their seat and the room was filled with bustling chatter. Few noticed when a man came up to the young mage and laid a sticky hand on her forearm. Startled, Vrisiphiel jerked back from under the large hand.

''llo there pretty.' The young woman turned to find a brute with short trimmed brown hair before her. In the left hand the man held a extra large mug, while his right reached for her face. 'What say you, and I, have a little chat… together… em?' The drunk said.

'Go away, scum.' She snapped, leaning back out of the man's probing hands.

'Feisty, little one. That is good… a little spirit…' Barely able to stand up straight, the man laughed, his teeth yellow and rotten. 'I like.' His hand shot forward and pinched her in the waist. Vrisiphiel slapped him on the wrist, but proved ineffectual against the brute.

'Come on, just a little chat, all girls love it, they just won't admit they want the attention.' The drunk advanced another step. Some patrons had noticed the little event by the bar, but it was common sight and none paid any further notice. Vrisiphiel looked around the room, her eyes a pleading green. But none came.

The man drew his face close, the stink of beer and filth almost overwhelming for the young woman. 'Give me a kiss, lass, it's not like you lose anything.'

'Go to hell and leave the lady alone, drunk.' Someone said behind the drunk, and a hand grabbed the brute back.

'Hrem!' The drunk spun around, his iron fist shot out like a cannonball. The newcomer turned aside, grabbed the out stretched arm and snapped it out and down. 'Ooowaah!' The brute screamed as he was forced by the man's twist to the floor.

Looking up at her rescuer with thankful glance, Vrisiphiel froze by the sight of a unfairly good looking young man.


End file.
